Author's Note: In the last chapter, Saria and Assef made their plans to kill Zainab. After an intense chase, they cornered her in an abandoned house, leading to a brutal stabbing delivered by Saria. Now, a few more days have passed and we find Saria suffering through an awkward dinner with her parents...
Thank you to everyone who reads this story. It means a lot to me. This chapter takes place during yet another event in the original novel. As always, I claim no ownership of any characters, plots and events found within the Kite Runner. I'm just having some fun with them. ;)
Please note, again, that I do not condone the actions, thoughts, or opinions of the characters in this story. This chapter contains mentions of Nazi ideology - as is part of Assef's character in the original novel. It also contains quotes and a direct scene from the original book content. I do not agree with his views (or that of Saria) but am including them as they are a part of the character's basis in the Kite Runner.
With that said, please enjoy this next instalment!
There are many, many things that I detest in this life. So much so that I could make a comprehensive list, a detailed memoir on those things alone. But among those pet peeves of mine, there is none that drives me to distraction more so than being seated at the dinner table with my parents. And that was where I now found myself, seated on Tanya's left, across the table from my brother, who shot me sympathetic glances every so often.
Just the sight of my parents turned my veins to ice, made my blood boil. Just the way that Tanya stared at me, every damn time I cut a piece of meat, or placed a bit of rice into my mouth, as if waiting for me to slip up and drop food onto my clothes like some fucking toddler. It was distracting, and were I not used to this type of behaviour, given how strict she was about proper behaviour at dinnertime, I would, no doubt, have messed up and gotten myself into trouble. But this was par for the course, and so I simply ignored her. Still, I couldn't help but find myself wishing that she and Mahmood had stayed in Pakistan.
There were other issues weighing on my mind too, other thoughts rushing to and fro. Chief among them, well, you can probably guess what that was. Yes, Zainab's murder. Though it had been a few days since I'd ended the girl's life, those events were still as fresh as the hour they'd happened. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes at night, I dreamt of the murder, seeing Zainab's terrified face appear right before my eyes, her face frozen in perpetual terror. The blood coating her shirt, the way she struggled, her desperation to live, though she was, of course, entirely unable to fight me off. This was not to say that I felt any sort of guilt for what I had done - far from it. Zainab had it coming, and deserved every stab wound that her body was forced to endure. I could only wish that I'd had the foresight to make her suffer more.
My thoughts of her were nothing more than the happy reminiscing of what had been one of the best days in my life. It was an adrenaline rush, one that I still had yet to come down from. Though I will admit, my thoughts of Zainab were not entirely joyous. There was no news regarding the murder, no words whispered in the streets about her disappearance - and that struck me as odd. Had her parents not noticed that she was missing? Were they not sickened with worry when she didn't come home? And what of her friends? Did they fear for their missing companion? Were they gossiping about her disappearance, making up conspiracy theories in the way that simple minded children often did?
Would there - and this was the more frightening thought - would there be an investigation into the murder? Would the police get involved? All of these thoughts were very real and unsettling to me, try as I might to push them out of my head. I absently moved my fork around on my plate in distraction, lifting a bit of rice and then allowing it to drop, one by one, back down.
"Saria." It was Tanya's voice that brought me back to reality. She caught hold of my wrist, her expertly manicured fingernails digging into my skin. I wanted to flinch, to shrink away from her, yet that would be seen as rude, and so all I could do was turn to face her, glancing downwards with a reticent look in my eyes. That was what the bitch wanted. From the look on her face, I surmised that I would be in for a lecture.
She took the fork out of my hand, placing it back down on my plate with an impacted clang. With her free hand, she extended her finger, jabbing me in the chest with it. "You do not play with your food, young lady," she admonished, "do you think I spend hours in the kitchen cooking this meal for my family so that you can just toss it about with absolutely no regard for the effort I have made?"
Her words brought me nothing but untold rage. I wanted to seize hold of that fork again, and shove it right into her damn throat. To carve off her lips so that she couldn't speak another disrespectful word to me. Who, just who the fuck, did she think she was? Did she honestly think she was so important that every meal she cooked had to be treated with the utmost dignity, as though it had come from the divine hand of God himself? I opened my mouth to reply, but right before I could do so, Mahmood cut in, wanting to give his two cents on the matter.
"You will respect the work that your mother puts into ensuring your health and well-being, my child," he scolded, fixing me with a pointed stare. "It is the height of utter arrogance to think that you can sit here and make light of the meal that we have been so fortunate to receive this evening. If you have finished eating, then you are acutely aware of the proper manner in which to go about expressing that, are you not?" He placed his hand on his hip. The belt looped through his trousers was out of sight, hidden by the table, but I just knew that was what he was aiming at. I didn't need his next words to confirm that, though he did so anyway. "Now, are you going to apologise to your mother for your actions or do you and I need to have a more intimate discussion?"
Most certainly not! I still remembered the sting of the last 'discussion' that Mahmood had with me, and I didn't need to go through that again. I bowed my head demurely, placing my hands submissively into my lap and keeping my eyes downcast as I spoke again, voice barely above a gentle whisper. "No, Papa. We need not discuss the matter further, if it please you." I turned to my mother, the picture of sweet contrition. "I apologise for my disrespect, Mama. It was in no way my intention."
Tanya nodded once. She placed her hands on my shoulders, her piercing, cruel blue eyes staring into mine. I kept my apologetic gaze locked onto hers. For what seemed like eons, we just looked at one another. I knew that it was down to Tanya to decide whether or not my transgressions should be forgiven. And that if she decided otherwise, Mahmood would impart his lesson upon my flesh regardless. From across the table, Assef kept his eyes focused on his plate, though I knew he wanted to speak out against this unfair lecture.
But, Tanya must have seen what she believed to be true remorse in my eyes, for she removed her hands from off of my shoulders, leaned back in her seat and looked at Mahmood. "She is contrite, Mahmood," she said, talking over me as though I wasn't even in the room. "There is no need to let the matter run on any further." He removed his hand off of his belt and took a sip of his drink. Tanya gesticulated to my plate. "Now, Saria, if you are finished with your meal, you will take your plate and cutlery to the sink as expected."
"Yes, Mama," I replied, getting to my feet. I took my plate and napkin, gathering them into my arms and carrying them to the sink. My teeth grit in frustration, I moved my tongue from one side to the other, scraping the side of it with my teeth. Being rebuked in this manner, talked down to as if I was little more than a fractious dog, it only made me loathe those two pieces of crap even more. Maybe I should have been used to this - so common a feature it was in the Ahmed household, but every time I received a scolding, it made me want to scream aloud in frustration.
My hands trembled to the point I feared I may drop the plate before I even got it to the sink. It was only my fear of what may happen that kept me from doing so. Stay calm, Saria, I reminded myself, you're used to this. You've gone through this before, it's nothing new to you. It was but a scolding, nothing more, nothing less. Push it to the back of your mind, you know you are not in the wrong here.
Emitting a low exhale through my teeth, I finally made it to the sink with, luckily for me, no issues to report. Now, there was a certain way that plates had to be left in the sink. While other families might have been content to let their children drop their cutlery into the sink and leave it at that, leave it for the servant(s) to clean, we were not like that. Everything had a ritualistic way about it.
First, I wiped the plate down with the napkin. Once I'd put that into the bin, I lay the plate face up in the sink, with the knife and fork side-by-side on top of it. That had to be done correctly, ensuring that it looked as neat as was humanly possible. Then, at last, I stepped back from the sink, turning back to my parents and bowing my head demurely - the symbol that I had completed my task. Now, if you're thinking that the manner in which the Ahmeds put dirty dishes away sounds much too similar to the manner in which waiters in restaurants put out food for their customers, then you'd be quite correct.
Tanya beckoned me to return to the table. I was about to do so, when the crackling of our living room's radio distracted me. We often left it on during dinnertime - letting music play on while we ate in silence. For what reason, I had no idea. Perhaps just to give off some semblance of normality to our otherwise ridiculously abnormal affairs. But now it crackled, a surefire warning that there was a breaking news story just waiting to be read.
A male voice came over the airwaves. "We interrupt your listening for an important announcement." And then it crackled again, because we weren't listening to the right channel. The man continued to speak, "for the full story, please turn your dials to Radio Kabul News, channel 78.5"
As Mahmood rose to his feet, I wondered if he was about to head into the living room to change the radio frequency so that it would be on the right channel for us to hear whatever news that Wazir-Akbhar-Khan had to offer today. But my hopes were dashed and yet again my indignation was set aflame as he clicked his fingers at me the way one might to a trained pet, and said, "You will change the channel on the radio, daughter."
Would it have killed him to say the word 'please'? Or to word his request in a more polite way? Fucking asshole, talking down to me like that. As if he hadn't done enough already at the dinner table. I opened my mouth to acknowledge his demand, but he shook his head and said, in a pompous tone, "A verbal response is unnecessary, Saria. Simply do as you are bid, now." Then, turning to my brother and mother, he added, "Come along, Tanya, Assef. Let us clear our own plates and make our way into the living room so that we may hear what is to be announced this evening."
I walked into the living room, across the carpet, and over to where our family radio rested upon the mantle, above the fireplace. My tiny hands picked it up, fiddling with the dial. As I did so, I could hear the rest of my family putting their plates into the sink - in the same manner in which I had done earlier. I fumbled about with the radio, twisting and turning it, hearing that irritating white noise. By the time I'd gotten it to the right channel, and adjusted the dial on the volume, everyone else had gathered in the living room, taking their places on the couch and surrounding armchairs.
Making my way over to Assef, I sat beside him on the couch. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, drawing me in close and absently pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Mahmood sat in one armchair, and Tanya in the other, both looking expectantly between me and the radio. For a moment, there was little more than awkward silence, and then the news-reporter began to speak. And oh, how I wasn't one bit ready for the news he would bring. Remember how I said there was no news on Zainab? Well, that was all about to change!
The reporter began to speak, his voice terse and formal. "Police in Wazir-Akbar-Khan are investigating the disappearance of twelve-year-old Zainab Niazai." So that's her surname, I thought absently. "She was last spotted on Friday, in the market-place at around twelve noon. Zainab is four foot seven, with dark hair and eyes. On the day of her disappearance, she was wearing a light green, striped dress, with black shoes."
I remembered that outfit, quite clearly. The description of Zainab's outfit only served to bring to light those memories of seeing her blood-soaked corpse lying upon the floor. Her fear-filled eyes, the screams that emanated from her throat. Yet these thoughts didn't bring me as much joy as they previously did. I glanced over at Assef, trying to gauge his opinions.
He stared straight ahead, his eyes focused on the wall. His face was expressionless, hands by his sides. But I knew him better than anyone, and I knew that this news had shocked him just as much as it shocked me. We just couldn't let our feelings be known, not while Mahmood and Tanya were in the room with us. We needed to pretend that we were just as gullible as they were, that we, too, were hearing this news for the first time.
The radio announcer continued to speak. "Police have been working alongside the Niazai family in order to bring Zainab home safely, though as of yet, no new leads have been made." Thank God. Thank fucking God. I almost sighed in relief, but was quick to remind myself that doing so would only arouse suspicion. And from the way that Tanya kept glancing in my direction, I would have to be extra careful right now. The slightest wrong move could bring the Inquisition down upon me, and that was the last thing I needed.
As the news briefing continued, I did my best to listen intently while not trying to seem overtly interested. Luckily, the reporter made no mention of a body, or any mention that Zainab was believed to be dead at all, really. No doubt they simply figured she might have gotten lost and were hoping to locate her and bring her home safe and sound. Perhaps, I thought, perhaps they may entertain the notion of this being a kidnapping and be on the lookout for child predators in the local area.
Wouldn't that have been great? To have my crime paid for by someone else? I think I'd have figured myself the luckiest girl in the world if that were to be the case. The news reporter was beginning to finish speaking. "If anyone has information regarding Zainab's disappearance, please contact the local police department on the following number." He gave out the number for the Wazir-Akbar-Khan police, but I drowned that part of the announcement out. I mean, I wasn't going to be the one calling them, now was I?
Finally, the news briefing was at an end. Mahmood rose from his seat and turned the radio off. It seemed strange for us to listen to music now. Not that we would have, anyway. Tanya covered her mouth with one hand, shaking her head. "Oh my God," she whispered, staring at the radio, as if unable to believe what she'd just heard. "I... I can't believe this. That poor girl." She bit down on her fist, looking extremely tense. She turned to my father, who looked perturbed by the news but not nearly as bothered as her. "Oh, Mahmood, that family must be utterly heartbroken. Worried out of their minds."
Mahmood nodded, giving Tanya a sympathetic gaze. "They must be," he said. "I never thought anything like that could happen in this city. It's always been so safe."
Wow, I thought, they're really bothered by this whole Zainab thing. The news here really threw them for a loop - and they don't even know that she's dead yet. Imagine how they'd react if they knew the truth - no doubt their fucking heads would explode. I almost laughed at that mental image, though I managed to contain myself. Again, I gave a cursory look at my brother, who just kept looking ahead. He hadn't said a word yet, and I wondered if he was ever going to. But then, I couldn't blame him for remaining silent. What could he say? What words were appropriate for a situation such as this?
But just when I thought that our parents were going to ignore us completely, Tanya lifted her head and looked right in my direction. Obviously now coming to the realisation that her children were in the room with her and could see her whining about a missing girl she didn't even know. She rose from her chair and walked over to me. She knelt down in front of me, reaching up and grabbing hold of my arms, so that I couldn't move or look away without risk of another scolding.
"Saria," she said. Her voice was somewhat gentler now, dripping from her lips like a sickening honey. "Saria, listen to me now. That young girl, Zainab, did you know her? Was she in your class at school? Was she... was she a friend of yours?" Her concern bothered me. What was she asking me this for? What did it matter whether or not I was in the same class as Zainab? What did it matter if we were friends? All her asking me those questions did was serve to further empathise how little Tanya knew about me. How little I wanted her to know about me.
I had to answer her though. If I were to sit there and not speak a word, then I would be in trouble, and I could do without that. "Yes, Mama," I replied softly. "I... She's in school with me. I saw her once or twice in classes but we never really talked. I mean, we weren't, uh... we weren't really friends or anything like that." There. What more could I say? I couldn't just come right out and inform her that Zainab had bullied me, now could I? For one thing, that would cause suspicion to fall upon me and for another, less important point, well... Tanya wouldn't have cared anyway. She would have just said that I no doubt did something to upset the girl or that I should 'behave in a manner that makes people wish to befriend you', as if I didn't spend every waking hour feigning perfection anyway.
Keeping my eyes downcast, I maintained the appearance of a demure, nervous little girl. Perhaps if Tanya thought that the news of Zainab was making me feel a bit uncomfortable - then she would leave me alone. Perhaps. Maybe, well, not out of any sympathy for her only daughter, but because she wouldn't want me getting upset and 'causing a scene' in front of the other members of the household.
Tanya lifted my chin, staring directly into my eyes. Her gaze was serious, piercing. "It must have been hard for you to hear such news about your classmate," she said. "But you must be assured, the police will do all that is necessary to find her." This was, of course, in no way reassuring to me. I mean, much as I figured it might be funny to imagine the looks on the Niazai family's faces when they were informed of their child's gruesome death, I also knew that the discovery of her corpse would open up an even bigger investigation than this one. So, of course I felt a little paranoid about that. Who wouldn't, after committing their first murder?
On some level, I had to wonder why Tanya was acting so concerned about Zainab. Why was she talking to me about this, why even ask if I knew her in the first place? Was this but another ploy to make herself out to be the caring mother? She did that sometimes - manipulative cunt that she was, and most especially after dishing out a scolding. I believe that's called dangling the carrot before the horse. Her attempt to make me believe she cared. Whatever. As if I needed her grabbing and manhandling me like this.
After what felt like an eternity, Tanya relinquished her grip on my arms and stood up. She walked back to her own chair and sat down. Mahmood rose from his own seat, walked to his wife and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, placing her hand upon his own. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear, something that I could neither hear nor decipher. Pulling away, he spoke aloud so that my brother and I could hear him.
"Well, there's not much point in any of us dwelling on it, is there? All we can do is just hope and pray that the girl will be found and returned safely to her family, and that will be an end to it." The tone in his voice told me that he wanted this conversation to be at an end just as much as I did. The one thing my father and I could agree on, then. He squeezed Tanya's hand one final time and got up, walking back to his own chair.
I looked at my mother again. Her hands were folded demurely in her lap, her chin tilted upwards, gaze focused. She was trying to come across as much in-control as she possibly could, but I knew that Zainab's disappearance had rattled her, though I was not entirely certain as to why. What purpose did it serve to be upset over someone you didn't even know? And would she be half as upset if it were either myself or Assef that went missing?
Given her general treatment of my brother and I - and the way she behaved earlier at dinner - would she care if one of us were to disappear? Would she cry? Would she fight tooth and nail to get us back, as the Niazai family were clearly doing for their own child? Or would she relish in the fact that she no longer had to deal with us anymore? Would she put on the mask of a grieving mother but secretly, inside, not care one single jot?
You already know the answer to that, Saria, a little voice in my head piped up. Is that even a question you need to ask? It wasn't, of course, and I knew that. I could no longer stand to spend even one more minute in the company of my parents, I slowly rose to my feet. Brushing off the front of my dress, I turned, facing them with my head tilted demurely. "I think I would like to prepare for bed now, Mama, Papa," I said.
Mahmood nodded. "Of course, Saria. It's about time you started getting ready anyway. You'll be sure to take your bath and brush your teeth before turning in for the night, won't you?" Oh, how his patronising words made me want to slap him across the face. His tone was that of a person speaking to a much younger child. Did he think of me as some idiot who didn't know how to take care of herself? I itched to take that fucking toothbrush of mine and shove it down his throat, but alas, we can't always have what we want in life, can we?
"Yes, Papa," I replied politely. I walked to where Assef still sat upon the couch, and leaned down to embrace him. He was, of course, the only person in that room that would get a good night hug or kiss from me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Good night, big brother. I love you."
Assef smiled as I pulled away from him, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "I love you too, Saria. Sleep well, Liebchen." We both looked at each other, and in that split second, it was as though the entire world fell away - nobody else in that room mattered save my brother and I. I would have stayed locked in his embrace for centuries, but alas, I needed to get myself upstairs. With a final wave to my Assef and a polite nod to Mahmood and Tanya, I turned on my heel and began making my way upstairs.
I reached the landing, grabbing a towel from the hot press - I had already washed my hair yesterday and therefore a second towel was unnecessary - and walking into the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I turned on the taps and let the bathwater run as I began the process of undressing. Slipping out of my dress and tights, I folded them up and laid them neatly on a shelf. Once that was done, I tied my hair back (to prevent it from getting wet) and hopped into the bath.
The water was incredibly relaxing, so much so that I closed my eyes and let past worries fade away, with not a care in the world. For now, at least, I decided not to think about Zainab anymore. There was no point in worrying about things that were not in my control, was there? Besides, Assef and I had done everything in our power to ensure that nothing in that crime would be linked back to us. Still, that didn't mean it wasn't unsettling to know my own mother was so bothered about a girl that I had ki-no, no, I wouldn't think of that. Neither Tanya nor Zainab deserved my precious time or energy.
After finishing my bath, I made my way into my room, closing the door behind me so that I could be afforded that precious little privacy I had. I changed into a white nightgown with rosebuds adorning the sleeves. Yet another item of clothing that I'd had since I was about eight, and that still fit me like a glove. Utterly pathetic, really. But there wasn't much point in complaining - this was a 'ladylike' nightgown, and that was what mattered.
I grabbed my copy of the Shahnameh and got into bed, pulling the covers up over me. I always read for about half-an-hour or so before I went to sleep. Helped to clear my mind of my own personal worries and meant I could get lost in some other world, if only for a time. My thumbs flicked through the pages, concentrating on the words inscribed upon them. As I did so, I could hear the familiar sounds of my brother and parents walking around downstairs. Then, as more time passed, they came up the stairs, and I heard them go into their respective rooms.
Finally, when my eyes were beginning to get heavy, and I was barely able to comprehend the words on the page, I decided that it was time for me to get some sleep. I'm not sure how much time had passed, but I figured it must have been fairly late. I closed the Shahnameh and got out of bed, making my way over to the shelf so that I could place it back up there.
Reaching up on tiptoe, I was just about to put the book down... and then it happened. A loud bang echoed from outside, causing me to stagger backwards, throwing my arm out as I gasped. The Shahmaneh fell to the ground, and several other books on that shelf came crashing down to the floor around me. "Oh fuck!" I swore under my breath, dropping to my knees and scrambling around like a blind-woman to pick them up. Mentally, I prayed that neither of my parents would have heard the commotion. If they had, then they most certainly would come barging in here, ready with a scolding (and perhaps a lick of the belt) for me making a mess - and being awake at this hour.
Please don't let them come in here, I prayed, gathering the books up and halfheartedly replacing them back on the shelf. Please, God, please don't let them have heard that. I don't need another lecture, I don't need to get into trouble. Not tonight, not again. Please. I stood there, arms trembling by my sides, waiting for the inevitable hammering of my father's fists upon the bedroom door. One second, two second, three seconds...
Nothing. No footsteps. No knocking on the door. Had they not heard, then? Was I in the clear? They must not have heard anything - perhaps they were already asleep, or just didn't want to be bothered with their daughter. I made to get into bed once more. And then... there came yet another loud and sudden bang. I pressed my hands over my ears, another curse word spewing from my lips. What the hell was that? What the actual fuck was going on?
Another noise. Then another. Then... yet another. This was starting to get a bit irritating, to tell you the truth. I needed to sleep, and how in the world was I meant to do that when people outside were so rudely doing... whatever this was. How was I supposed to get a single moment of rest? And just what were those noises anyway? Fireworks? That seemed a logical explanation - though I couldn't for the life of me figure out what people would be celebrating. It wasn't a national holiday or anything.
Maybe they're rejoicing over Zainab's disappearance? Everyone must have heard that news report by now - and I can't blame them if they wanted to set off a few fireworks for that. I found myself smirking at my own mental quip. Indeed, if people had been setting off fireworks in honour of Zainab vanishing, then I may well have gone out there to dance in the streets alongside them. If her disappearance (and death) were to be seen as a good, noble deed, then would I not have been justified in taking the glory was my due? In allowing the world to praise me as they rightfully should?
But alas, that is not the world we live in. If people were celebrating something, then it most certainly was not Zainab's disappearance. Yet the noises continued, over and over. Now, the time between each one was much smaller; it went from a thirty second interval to only seven or thereabouts. They were loud - yet still sounded far away. My curiosity was getting the better of me; if these noises were going to keep me up tonight, then I had the right to know what they were.
Making my way over to the window, I slowly drew back the curtain and peeked outside. By now, it was probably fairly late, and thus the driveway and front garden of my house was shrouded in darkness. I rubbed my eyes, squinting into the pitch-black night. Another noise - this one somewhat closer. And yet, I could see nothing. Not fireworks then, certainly their lights would have been noticeable. But they weren't and I could now discern that my original thoughts had been mistaken.
What else could it be, then? I furrowed a brow, trying to consider what might be causing those sounds. If not fireworks then... the only other logical explanation would be gunshots. That was a sobering thought, one that made a cold shudder run through me. I wasn't used to hearing gunfire - most people weren't, not in the Kabul of my childhood - and therefore, the idea that people were out there shooting wildly into the night, was more than little unsettling. Were they hunting something? Or... or someone?
There was no way I'd be able to sleep tonight. Loathe as I may be to admit it, this was starting to unsettle me. And thus, I would do what I always did when I couldn't sleep - go to my brother. Assef wouldn't mind sharing his bed with me, it was something we'd been doing since I was a toddler. On nights when I would wake, frightened and drenched in sweat from a bad dream, I would go to my darling brother's room, and find safety in the comfort of his embrace.
This, I knew, would be another one of those nights. Assef was the only person here that I could seek solace with, and it was with this thought in mind that I slowly made my way out of my room and down the corridor to his. I tiptoed silently, not daring to make even the slightest noise, lest Mahmood or Tanya awaken and usher me to bed once more. Assef's room was fourteen steps away from mine - and I counted each in my head as I walked. Don't ask me why, maybe it just made me feel safer to know how close we were.
Once I reached his door, I knocked once, and stepped back. For a moment, there was nothing, and I wondered if he'd not heard me. It wasn't like I could be too loud - and perhaps he was asleep already. But then... what could I do then? Go back to my own room? No, that was not an option. There was too much on my mind, and I needed my big brother. Yet... if he didn't come out... Should I knock again?
Right as I was about to do so, the door opened, and Assef stood in the doorway, shrouded by the fading light of the hallway. He looked down at me, his brow raised. "Saria?" he whispered. I nodded, and he moved to my side, a concerned look in his eye. "Is everything alright, Liebchen?" Just as I was about to answer him, there came yet another gunshot. Caught off-guard, I jumped, placing a hand over my chest as I began to shiver in trepidation. Assef figured out what was going on, because he gently took my hand and said, "It's alright, sis. Come on in. You can stay with me tonight."
That was yet another check-mark on the endless list of things that I loved about my beloved Assef. He always gave me what I needed, always knew just what to do to make me feel better. Assef guided me into his room, quietly closing the door behind him. He walked to his bed - double and big enough to hold both of us - and gestured for me to come to him.
Well, I didn't need to be told twice. I rushed to my brother, almost tripping over myself in haste. He pulled back the bed-covers and I slid in beside him, while he lay beside me, one arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close. We faced each other, faces almost touching, lit only by the small lamp on Assef's bedside table. The gunfire crackled on, not stopping, not even once.
"Those..." I inclined my head towards the window - trying to prevent the tremor from entering my voice, although that seemed a losing battle at this point. "Those noises, they're guns, aren't they?" It wasn't a question that I particularly needed answers to, having already been driven to that same conclusion minutes before. But, on some small level, talking my worries out with Assef would, I knew, make me feel better
"Yes," Assef whispered, nodding. That was one of the things I loved about my brother. He was honest with me - he didn't try to placate me with falsehoods. He didn't brush off my concerns, or make up some childish story. He comforted me, yes, but he respected me as a person. And that was what I needed; now more so than ever. The truth, but a gentle touch to soothe me, someone to be there to face it alongside me.
I hummed softly, "Mhm-hm. That's what I thought. Well, actually, my first guess was fireworks. That theory evaporated when I looked out the window and didn't see any lights or anything."
Assef's mouth twitched. "Fireworks?" he asked. I made a soft, non-committal sound, and he chuckled. "Well, it was a good guess, Liebchen. But tell me, then, what did you think they were celebrating?"
"Well, I don't know," I replied, cuddling closer to him. "Part of me thought... I know it'd never happen but wouldn't it be amazing if they were celebrating Zainab going missing? If people hated her with as much passion as I. Not that I would blame them for a second, no doubt I wasn't her only enemy with the way she behaved."
Just as my brother opened his mouth to say something else, there came the loudest pop of gunfire yet. And then another, and another, and another; in rapid succession. These were the closest I'd ever heard them. It sounded as though they were right outside Assef's bedroom window, as though a stray bullet might come flying through the glass and hit one of us at any moment. Against my better judgement, I let out a tiny shriek of fear and began whimpering. Tears welled up in my eyes, pooling over and falling down my cheeks.
What is this? I thought in a panic, who are these people? Why are they shooting like this? Are they just hunters out for sport or... or this something darker? Should I be worried for my safety? Or... or Assef's? Once again, my mind ran away from me and I was assaulted by the mental image of large, masked gunmen breaking into our home and shooting my brother, my world, my most important person, dead right in front of me. That thought alone frightened more than anything and I couldn't stop myself from sobbing harder. "N-No... Nooo..." I whimpered, hiding my face.
"Saria..." Assef pulled me closer to him. We were now practically entangled in each other's arms, so close that I could feel his breath. He rocked me, humming under his breath. "It's alright, Liebchen. It's okay." I continued to whimper, clutching the front of his pyjama shirt, my hands digging into the fabric. Assef pressed a kiss the top of my head. "You're safe, I promise. Everything's going to be fine. Shh... It's alright, my darling."
I trembled all over, tears rolling down my face. Fucking pathetic, Saria, I chastised myself, look at yourself. Crying like a toddler over some fucking noise? What the hell is wrong with you? Stupid girl! Grow the fuck up! It was with a bitter irony that I noted how the voice that demeaned my fears sounded oh-so-much like Tanya. If she could see me, I knew that she would be treating me with much the same disdain that I was now treating myself.
But fortunately for me, I had my brother. And he would do whatever was necessary to soothe my demons - both from the gunshots outside and the frazzled mess of my broken psyche. He cradled me the way a parent would an infant, his arms a protective shield around me. His lips gently brushed my ear as he whispered soft words of encouragement. "They won't hurt you, sweet one. I promise. I know the noises are upsetting, but please, try not to think of it. Just close your eyes now, try to block it all out. I'm right here, my beloved Saria, and I'm not going anywhere. Nobody will hurt you. I swear on my life."
Eventually, the sounds of the gunshots began to die down. They were still clearly audible, yes, but no longer did they sound as if they were right outside my house. I began to feel a little more comfortable - though I still didn't disentangle myself from Assef's tender embrace. He continued to whisper soft, comforting words into my ear, holding me tightly, sheltering me from whatever fears may assuage me from slumber. And as the hours dwindled away, I soon found myself drifting off...
I awoke the next morning to an empty bed and, after giving a cursory glance, I discovered Assef's room empty aside from me. Normally, this would be cause for concern - and more so given the circumstances of last night, but any fears I might have had were immediately washed away by the sight of my brother reappearing in the doorway, fully dressed. He gave me a small smile as I rubbed my eyes, sitting up. "You're up early," I whispered, unable to hide the tiredness in my voice.
Assef crossed to his bed, sitting beside me and drawing me in close. "It's half-ten, Sar," he said, "not that early, not really." I was about to protest at having slept in so late - and apologise for bothering him, because that little voice of self-judgement in my head was telling me I had. Oh, how I loathed that voice. But Assef, sensing what I was about to say, cut across me before I got the chance. "It's alright, Liebchen, you needed your rest." I looked at him through tired eyes, and he placed the back of his hand against my cheek. "Everything alright, now?"
Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against his shoulder, and nodded once. "Yeah," I whispered softly. I was, too. Though last night had been an unsettling experience - and in the back of my mind I still felt that strange apprehension about what had transpired - I did feel comforted by Assef's presence. "I don't think I'd have been able to sleep half as well as I did without you by my side last night."
"You're welcome to stay here any night, you know that," Assef responded in a gentle tone, taking my hand in his, and lifting it to his lips. We looked at each other for the briefest of moments, before he moved away from me, rising to his feet and making his way to the window. For the longest time, he just stood there and didn't say a word. Then, a few moments later, he turned back to me. "Now, Sar, I don't mean to kick you out, little sister, but I'm meeting Wali and Kamal today and I do need to get dressed."
I nodded, rising and making my way to the door. Right before I exited, I turned back to Assef. "Can I come with you?" I asked. "To meet Wali and Kamal, today, I mean?"
"Of course, Saria," Assef responded, "I was going to ask you to come along anyway." We smiled at each other, and I felt yet another surge of the deepest adoration for my brother. Most people would not want their little sisters hanging around they were with friends, but Assef and I had a relationship that transcended the realms of the normal sibling bond. The thought brought a spring to my step as I walked my down the hall and into my room.
Closing the door behind me, I gathered the outfit for the day. A light blue dress, knee-length, with white ankle socks and ballet flats with ribbons on the top. Topping off the look was a small white cardigan. It was, as many of my clothing was, made for a child far younger than I, but it still fit me like a glove - and that was what mattered. I hummed softly as I got dressed.
When I was done, and my hair had been brushed and pinned back by a small black headband, I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen. Mahmood and Tanya sat at the table, neither speaking a word to one another. Par for the course, that was. Tanya held a cup of piping hot tea in her hands, the steam wafting from over the top of it. Her eyes were slightly downcast. Beside her, Mahmood was reading the newspaper. When they heard me entering the room, both stopped what they were doing and turned to look at me.
Their stern glare was like a weight upon my back. I bowed my head, hands placed over the other, folded in front of me. Tanya set her cup of tea aside, beckoning me to her. "Come here, Saria." Like an obedient puppet, I walked to her side, close enough for her to reach out and grab me, turning me this way and that as she inspected my outfit. She did this... well, not often, for she was not home enough to do daily inspections, but enough that I knew how to behave, and the type of outfit that I ought to wear in order to gain her approval.
She turned me, left, then right, then brushed some imaginary dust off of my cardigan. "You look beautiful, sweetheart." The words, though she meant them to sound like a compliment, were nothing but a way for her to charm me. Tanya gave out compliments with the utmost falsehood - a kind word could be snatched away and replaced with cruelty in the blink of an eye. How fortunate I was, in that moment, to be on the receiving end of the former.
I bowed my knees, speaking in the most respectful tone that I could muster. "Thank you, Mama."
Tanya gave me a final glance-over, before returning her attention to her tea. Mahmood opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Assef appeared in the kitchen doorway. The minute I saw him, I let out the apprehensive breath I'd been holding in. Assef strolled over to the cupboards, pulling out some bread. He gave Mahmood and Tanya not even a second glance, and neither of them said a word to him. "Want me to put some toast on for you, Saria?" he asked.
"Please, brother," I replied politely. Assef put on two slices of toast, and sat down at the table while we waited for it to pop. I climbed onto his lap, and he pressed a kiss atop my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Tanya and Mahmood give us a side-ways glance, though, again, neither questioned us. For the longest time, silence reigned.
Then... Mahmood set the newspaper down and looked at my brother and I. "You two heard the noises last night?"
"The gunshots?" Assef asked, raising a brow at our father's attempt to sugarcoat the discussion. A sugarcoating that he was doing, I'm sure, for my benefit. At Mahmood's nod, my brother continued speaking. "Yeah, we heard those. Not sure how we couldn't, given how loud they were." He gestured to the newspaper in our father's hand, trying to see the front page headlines. "That give any explanation or reason to what went on?"
Mahmood shook his head. "Not on today's paper, no, but it was on the morning news, on Radio Kabul." He looked back and forth, from Assef and I, to Tanya, then back again. "There's been a coup," he said. "You two remember the King's cousin, Daoud Khan?" The name was familiar to me, on some level, but I didn't quite know who he was talking to. I blinked, shaking my head. Mahmood clicked his tongue, though it was hard to tell if he was bothered by my not knowing or just in thought.
But Assef knew. He arched a brow at our father's words. "Daoud Khan... he dined with us last year, didn't he?" He was about to say something else, when our toast popped. Setting me back on my feet, Assef rose and went to get our breakfast. He buttered his own slice of toast, then brought mine (and the butter and knife) over to the table. I disliked buttering my toast when it was too warm, not wanting it to melt. Assef pulled me back onto his lap, then addressed Mahmood again. "So... he's killed the king?"
"No, actually. The king is away in Italy. It was an entirely bloodless coup, or so that's what they're saying on the radio. But the monarchy is over now."
This discussion meant little to me, young as I was, at the time. I'd never really paid much attention to the monarchy - sure, I learned the names of our kings and queens in school - and filed them away in case they popped up in test and such, but the ins-and-outs of politics weren't that interesting to me. Though now, I must admit, that as I buttered my toast and nibbled absently at the sides of it, I was a tad curious as to what this whole thing meant. And, more importantly, if it would have any implications for my brother and I.
Assef didn't seem to be all that concerned, though, and when he was finished eating, he turned to look at me. "Well," he said, "we should probably get going now. Saria and I are going out to meet Wali and Kamal today. We'll be back by dinner." At this, he motioned for me to rise from his lap, which I did. "Go and get your coat, sister. I'll meet you at the front gate, alright?"
"Yes, brother," I responded. I gave a polite curtsy to Mahmood and Tanya - the only form of goodbye that they would receive from me - and brought my plate to the sink. After placing it in there for Hamilra to clean up later, I turned and skipped out of the room, humming childishly as I did so. I made my way upstairs, grabbing my long, black overcoat and matching gloves.
Once I was ready, I made my way out to the front gate, where Assef stood waiting for me, as he'd said he would. He offered me a gentle smile, and held out his hand for me to take. I didn't need to be asked twice. Placing my hand in his, I beamed, and we began our walk down the street. As we walked, I turned to look at my brother curiously. "So where are we meeting Kamal and Wali at?"
"Market," Assef responded. "Wali said they'd be near to where Saifo sells his kites." I nodded, and he began to lead me down the road. As we strolled, noting with great jubilation the apprehensive looks we (namely Assef) received from other children as they scampered on by, Assef brought up a topic that I hadn't given much thought to for now. "So, Liebchen, your birthday is coming up next week..."
He was right. December 05th, next Thursday, would be my twelfth birthday. Truth be told, I hadn't given it much thought - not right now, anyway. I knew that as time drew nearer, plans would surely be made to celebrate. I almost shuddered to think of the childish gifts Mahmood and Tanya would give me. But there was no point in fretting about that now. I answered my brother. "Yeah?"
We turned a corner. "Well..." Assef began, "I was thinking... I mean... I already have a present for you - and don't you go asking what that is," he added as my eyes lit up and I grinned mischievously, "but on the subject of Saifo's kites... I brought some cash with me today so I wanted to know if you'd like me to buy you one. Think of it as a second birthday present and well, a potential replacement for the one Farsef destroyed?"
Truly, my brother had the kindest heart of anyone that I had ever known. Was there no greater limits to his love for me? Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I took in the genuine sweetness of his words and gesture. All the same, though, I wasn't that interested in another kite. Still, I did make my gratitude known. With a soft look on my countenance, I squeezed his hand in mine. "That's generous of you, Assef jan. Thank you. But I'll pass on the kite. I do truly appreciate the offer though. I can't wait to see what you did get me for my birthday..." At this, I trailed off, leaving a playful silence hanging in the air as if I hoped that he would catch on and let something slip.
Assef laughed, ruffling my hair. "Nice try, Liebchen, but you know me well enough to know that I'm not going to just tell you. It's only one more week, you can be patient until then, can't you? You'll like it, that's all the information you're going to get."
I was about to say something else, but by now we had arrived at Saifo's and Wali and Kamal were there, awaiting our arrival. We made our way over to them, exchanging the basic pleasantries in greeting. Wali gave me a slightly uncomfortable glance, clearly not all too pleased at having his friend's "baby sister" there with them. Ah, well. Not as if he could do anything about it, was there? Not without standing against Assef, and that certainly wasn't something he'd be willing to do.
We walked through the market place, casually chatting about whichever relevant topic came to mind. I had since let go of Assef's hand, and was now skipping in front of them, the perfect image of childlike innocence. At one point, I turned, and caught sight of Kamal glancing at me with a fond smile. I gave him one of my own in return; he being my favourite of Assef's friends.
The conversation soon turned to the events of last night. It was Wali who brought it up first, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. "Did you hear the news?" he asked, "uh... about the new president, uh... I mean..."
"We heard," Assef responded, not even looking at Wali. "It was all over the morning radio, apparently."
Wali shrugged. "Yeah. I... I... things are going to change around here, that's what my father was saying. Really change. I don't think he was too pleased about... about the whole situation."
Assef scoffed. "I don't think your father really knows much of anything, Wali, so I'm not all that concerned with what he thinks. Now, personally, I'm in full support of the new president. I think-" But it was at this moment, that Assef caught sight of something in the distance and his sentence trailed off. I looked at him, confused, waiting for him to continue speaking. Kamal and Wali did the same. Assef just stood there, as though deep in concentration.
He raised a hand, motioning for me to come back to him. I did so, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "You'll never guess who I've just seen up ahead, sister," he said in German. I shrugged and he pointed to a barren patch of land near the hill (close to the barracks) with a cunning smirk making its way upon his features. "Up there, see? It's your little friend Amir and his Hazara pet."
Oh. Oh. Let me tell you, I don't know who I was expecting him to have seen, but it certainly wasn't those two. I'll admit, I hadn't thought about the boy in some time - most especially given the horrific fight Assef and I had gotten into the last time that we discussed him. But that wasn't to say that I was some robot, that I didn't still have feelings. That I could stop myself from grinning in excitement at the mere idea of being near Amir jan again. What can I say, in my eyes, there remained potential for me and the boy.
"Let's go over and see what the fairies are up to, shall we?" Assef asked, switching back to Farsi so that Wali and Kamal knew what he was saying. We followed behind Amir and Hassan for a little bit - not close enough to hear their conversation, but just so that we had a good view of them. Both with their arms around each other; utterly disgusting, really, and a major flaw of Amir's that I made the mental checkpoint to work on fixing.
Once we were in a secluded area where nobody else would see us, Assef bent down and picked up a rock. He tossed it up and down in his hand, once, twice, three times. The fourth time, he lobbed it directly at Hassan. It hit the smaller boy in the back, and he froze, hissing in pain. Both he and Amir whirled around, now face to face with us.
Amir froze like a deer in the headlights. He stared at Assef with a look of complete horror on his face - lower lip quivering, his eyes wide. It was oddly adorable, seeing how nervous he was around my brother. Hassan took a step behind Amir, cowering in terror. Pathetic, worthless Hazara. Even Amir was being somewhat more courageous than him - though that may have had more to do with the fact that he didn't have anywhere else to go.
"Good morning, kunis!" Assef exclaimed, with a mocking wave. He emphasised the cruel slur, with a pointed look at how close the two were. Amir gulped, and Hassan bit his lip nervously. Noticing this, Assef tipped his head to the Hazara boy. "Hey, Flat-Nose, how is Babalu?" That derogatory nickname - bogeyman - was in reference to Hassan's father - a hideously disfigured creature with polio and a limp to match.
Hassan didn't respond. He continued to tremble behind Amir, as if hoping that his master would step in and defend him. From the look on Amir's face and the way he was looking between Assef, Wali, Kamal and I in the hopes of finding an escape, that appeared to be a lost cause. Clearly not wanting to let the silence linger any more than it was, Assef spoke again. "Have you heard the news, boys? The king is gone. Good riddance, I say. Long live the president!" He glanced at me, by his side. "Our father knows Daoud Khan, did you know that, Amir?"
"So does my father," said Amir. With the amount he was stuttering and hesitating, it took him twice as long to get that one sentence out as it would anyone else. He retreated, another step back, almost trodding on Hassan as he did so. For half a second, I found myself wondering if Amir's father really did know Daoud Khan - I wouldn't have been all that surprised if he did; Jansher Quadiri practically knew everyone. But before I could inquire more about this, Assef spoke again.
He mimicked what Amir had said in a whining, childish voice. I laughed, noting with a slight twinge in my gut how Amir's shoulders slumped with dejection. Well, he would just have to get used to my brother and I making fun of him. Care for him I might have done; that didn't mean that I was going to ignore his flaws, that I wouldn't criticise him or let my Assef do the same.
Assef placed a hand on my shoulder, continuing to lecture Amir. "Well, Daoud Khan dined at our house last year, you know... And do you know what I'm going to tell him the next time he comes to visit?" When Amir didn't respond, my brother sighed but answered him anyway. "I'm going to have a little chat with him, man to man, mard to mard. Tell him what I told my mother. About Hitler. Now, there was a leader. A great leader. A man with a vision. I'll tell Daoud Khan to remember that if they had let Hitler finish what he started, this world would be a better place."
Though I wasn't looking at my brother, my focus solely on Amir and his reactions, I could tell that Assef was smiling as he said those words. Eager to share his views, of what a better world could be like. Assef had always been a fervent admirer of Hitler - and had been since he was young and had read a copy of Mein Kampf. I didn't quite understand the whole thing, personally, but my brother told me that this was the right way to make the world a better place. To create the perfection we were so desperately seeking. And now he was educating Amir on the subject. I only hoped that the boy would be intelligent enough to understand the gift being offered to him in this moment.
"Baba says Hitler was crazy, that he ordered a lot of innocent people killed." Ah. So he couldn't understand. I watched Amir's eyes widen and his hands rise to clamp over his mouth, as if hoping that he could push the words down, to prevent them from being said. Too late now. My eyes narrowed. How dare he question my brother? How dare he speak up against him?
Assef turned to me. He looked down at me and rolled his eyes. "Dumbass," he commented in German, gesturing towards Amir. I smirked - that was a logical conclusion right there. Turning, he addressed Amir once more, glaring at him. "He sounds like our mother, and she's German, she should know better." At this, I remembered Tanya's reaction when Assef had, one night, some time ago, brought up the topic of Hitler at the dinner table. It had not been pretty. "But then, they want you to believe that, don't they? They don't want you to know the truth."
Terrified beyond wits, no doubt, Amir stared at the ground, not willing to meet my brother's eyes. Assef, to his credit, didn't let this act of rudeness sway him in any way. "But you have to read books they don't give out in school. I have. And my eyes have been opened. Now, I have a vision, and I'm going to share it with our new president. Do you know what it is?"
"Uh..." Amir began, trailing off. He shook his head, the tiniest, minuscule movement, barely even noticeable. But that was of no matter to my Assef, who was now focused, not on Amir, but on Hassan.
He regarded the Hazara boy through narrowed eyes, glaring at him as though the creature was less than the dirt under his shoe, which, obviously, he was. "Afghanistan is the land of the Pashtuns. It always has been, always will be. We are the true Afghans, the pure Afghans, not this Flat-Nose here." His lip curled and he pointed to Hassan, who took yet another step back, the faintest hint of a whimper escaping his lips. Assef scoffed. "His people pollute our homeland, our watan. They dirty our blood."
He drew me in close with one arm, and made a sweeping, grand gesture with the other. "Afghanistan for Pashtuns, I say. That's my -" He paused, looking down at me. "That's our vision. Right, Saria?"
I nodded, smiling. "Our vision," I repeated, casting a softer glance to Amir. "Afghanistan for Pashtuns, Amir jan. A cleaner homeland. A better world." With that statement, I was gifting Amir with the knowledge of my deepest wish, my most fervent desire. Letting him know of the world that my dearest Assef and I hoped to create one day. A world that I, in all truth, hoped that Amir would find the good sense to be a part of.
Assef reached into the pocket of his jeans where his brass knuckles were. "I'll ask the president to do what the king didn't have the quwat to. To rid Afghanistan of all the dirty, Kaseef Hazaras." As he said this, I grinned at Amir, praying, hoping, that something in him would click with this and he would agree with what my brother was saying. I continued to scrutinise him, hoping to find any indication on his face that he agreed with Assef's words. That he would be convinced to go to our side.
But alas, this was not to be the case. Amir's mouth parted, his tongue darting out along his lower lip. He gulped, hands curling and uncurling into fists. "Just..." he faltered. As if that one word took all of his courage to get out. "Just let us go, Assef. We're not bothering you."
"Oh, you're bothering me," Assef said. He slipped the brass knuckles onto his hand, moving away from me as he did so. "You bother me very much. In fact, you bother me more than this Hazara here. How can you talk to him, play with him, let him touch you?" As he said those words, he looked as if the mere notion of touching a Hazara - much less by choice - was abhorrent to him. He curled his hand into a fist, brass knuckles sparkling in the morning sun. Wali and Kamal smirked as Assef continued on. "How can you call him your friend?"
The moment that Assef referred to Hassan as Amir's 'friend', something changed in the boy's face. He glanced back at Hassan, who was staring at the ground, not moving, not saying a word. Amir didn't say anything but... could I dare to hope that the look he gave to Hassan was one of repugnance? It was hard to tell, but oh, how I wished so desperately for it. Yet when Amir's gaze flicked back to Assef, any other emotion was gone, and replaced with the same unadulterated terror he'd been wearing all this time.
Assef stepped forward. "You're part of the problem, Amir. If idiots like you and your father didn't take these people in, we'd be rid of them by now. They'd all go to rot in Hazarajat where they belong. You're a disgrace to Afghanistan." He raised his fist, and it was in that moment, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what he was going to do. And for the first time in my life, as I stood, about to bear witness to Assef's cruelty, I found myself at a bit of a crossroads.
This was a boy that I... cared for. A boy who made my heart skip a beat, who I wanted to protect. Who I wanted to be mine one day. What did it say about me if I were to just stand there and do nothing while Assef laid into him? I, who knew more than anyone, who so often watched with gleeful abandon, the cruelty, the damage that my beloved could do, enraged as he was? If there was one thing that Assef loathed more than the Hazara race it was Hazara sympathisers. Was I really going to let this happen to Amir? Would I not step in, not say a word in his defence?
Maybe this is what he needs, though, said a voice in the back of my mind. Maybe he needs to feel this pain, to understand what he's been doing wrong. Think about it, Saria. If Assef hurts him, then he will learn from it, will he not? He will feel the pain and see the bruises for days, perhaps weeks, to come and learn from his mistakes. He'll think twice before treating Hassan as a companion again, right? Why should my kindness towards Amir let him get away with this disgusting behaviour? If a beating from Assef is what it takes to educate him, then so be it.
Yet... just before Assef could deliver that punishment to Amir, something happened that made everyone freeze up. Hassan bent down, picking up a rock. He placed the rock into his slingshot - which I hardly even noticed he had with him - pulling back the elastic band, holding it taut. He angled the slingshot directly at Assef's face. Amir whipped around, staggering back with his hands raised.
"Please leave us alone, Agha," Hassan said. He used the formal term-of-address, sir or master, to refer to Assef, and I would have been happy that he was receiving the deference he so richly deserved, were it not for the fact that, you know, Hassan had a fucking slingshot aimed at my brother's face.
I wanted to knock his teeth down his throat, but Assef spoke up before I got the chance to move. "Put it down, you motherless Hazara." And I thought he would. Hassan may not have been educated, he may have been an illiterate fool, but even a Hazara would understand that threatening someone who could beat seven shades of crap out of you was a bad idea.
Hassan's only reaction was to tighten his grip on the slingshot. He lifted it, angled right where my brother's eye was. "Leave us be, Agha."
Assef scoffed. "Maybe, you didn't notice," he said mockingly, "but there are four of us, and two of you." He didn't look at me, clearly not wanting to take the risk of taking his focus off of Hassan, which was entirely understandable.
"You are right, Agha." Hassan took a step forward. Just a step, but it was enough to make Assef hesitate. Hassan, clearly noticing this, gestured with the slingshot. "But perhaps you didn't notice that I'm the one holding the slingshot." As if we couldn't already fucking see that. "If you make a move, they'll have to change your nickname from Assef 'the Ear Eater' to 'One Eyed Assef' because I have this rock pointed at your left eye."
My ears were ringing. I felt as though I'd been hit by a speeding train. The blood rushed to my head, and I gasped, a visceral, painful reaction as though Hassan had struck me with that damn rock. Every other feeling, any other emotion that I had felt in that moment disappeared - falling away to the ether, to be replaced with naught but the darkest form of rage.
This cunt threatened my brother. This worthless, disgusting, vile piece of shit - so grotesque that it seemed almost offensive to human excrement to compare him to such - had dared to insinuate that he was going to cause harm to my Assef. To lay his hands on my most precious brother, my other half. Who the fuck did Hassan think he was? How could he do this? Did he not understand his place in society? Did he not understand how blasphemous his actions were?
Do something, Amir! I thought, willing the boy, who had not moved an inch, to act. Do something, for crying out loud! Are you going to stand there and let your servant threaten one of his betters like that? You coward! Come on, fucking punish Hassan! Hit him, rip him in two! Defend me, defend Assef! Come on! DO SOMETHING! But Amir did nothing. It was as if he couldn't move. That, coupled with Hassan's threats ringing in my ears, brought me to a level of rage that I had never known before.
A vicious, cruel snarl escaped my lips, followed by a guttural scream. "You SON OF A BITCH!" I roared, surging forward, my hands raised into fists. I would have knocked Hassan to the ground, and rammed that fucking slingshot down his throat, were it not for Kamal. Clearly sensing the trouble that would have erupted if I'd done so, he broke out of his trance and moved forward, throwing one arm over my waist. He pulled me back, whispering for me to calm down. But I would not go down without a fight. I struggled against Kamal, hitting him ineffectively with my tiny fists. "I'LL GUT YOU, HASSAN!" I screamed, spit flying from my lips. "DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU BASTARD?! I'LL FUCKING END YOU, I'LL-"
"Saria." Assef moved towards me, still never taking his eyes off Hassan for a second. He pulled Kamal's arm from off of me and drew me close, clutching my shaking body to him. His words were measured, slow, in German. "Calm, little sister. Calm." How ironic that he was asking this of me, when I could tell from the tremors in his own body that he was nothing of the sort. I struggled against him, but he kept a firm grip upon me. "We won't win this one, Sar, not this time." At this, I visibly deflated. He was right. We wouldn't win this round. Infuriated though I was, I could see now that attacking Hassan would end badly for me. For us.
Assef lowered his fist, letting it fall by his side. "You should know something about me, Hazara," he said, "I'm a very patient person. This doesn't end today, believe me." He looked, then, to Amir, who was gaping open-mouthed at us, his fearful eyes locked on me. Perhaps later, I would feel some guilt for so terrifying someone I cared for, but at this moment, I was too angry by his lack of reaction to feel any sort of compassion towards him. "This doesn't end for you either, Amir. Some day I'll make you face me one-on-one."
He moved back. Wali, Kamal and I did the same. "Your Hazara made a big mistake today, Amir." Those were the parting words we left them with as we turned and retreated down the road again. Assef kept looking over his shoulder as he ushered me away, as if unsure if the danger was truly gone. Eventually, when we were far enough away, he relinquished his grip on me and turned to his friends. "Wali, Kamal, go home," he said. "I'm... I'm not interested in spending any more time with either of you. Leave."
Kamal nodded. He glanced down at me, and then back to Assef. "Uh... alright, Assef. I... I guess we'll see you some other time then. Bye. Uh, and goodbye to you too, Saria." Both he and Assef looked at each other, for the longest moment, and Assef mouthed something to him that I didn't quite catch. Kamal's shoulders deflated, though, and he let out a breath that he'd obviously been holding in for some time. He smiled softly and then turned to leave.
But Wali hesitated, like the idiot he was. "Uh..."
"You heard me, Wali," Assef grit through his teeth, "I'm not in the mood to fucking repeat myself." Wali gulped, nodded once, and then he and Kamal walked away. Assef buried his face in his hands and groaned. His rage was so palpable, I could sense every atom of it as though it were my own. Because, in truth, it was my own. Assef and I were so in-sync that his feelings on this matter were mine. His rage was mine, his loathing was mine. His pain was mine.
I wrapped my arms around him, and he pulled me close, placing the back of his hand on my hair. "Let's just... let's just go home, Liebchen," he whispered, clearly trying to keep himself from entirely losing his shit. "I just... we can spend the day in my room, away from Mahmood and Tanya. Fuck. Let's just go." I just nodded, knowing it wouldn't be a good idea to argue with him now. We both needed to clear our minds from the turbulence of this day's events.
But I knew that today would stick with me forever. I knew that I had committed the image of Hassan threatening my brother with that slingshot to memory, and that there would be no justice until I delivered it. What Hassan did was unforgivable, and deserved punishment crueller than any I had devised before. And I swore, then and there, that he would be punished. He would know the true meaning of pain. I would defend my Assef, the other half of my soul, as he always defended me.
Hassan's blood would one day line the streets of Kabul, a red warning to those who dared to cross the Ahmed siblings. He would regret his actions this day. Mark my words.
Thank you all for reading! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. In the next one, it's Saria's twelfth birthday, but her parents' reaction causes tension to rise even more within the already unstable Ahmed family, leading to Saria committing yet another act of violence... Look for this coming up as soon as possible, and apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out. Best wishes!
